


Like a .... Faerie!

by 1lostone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek doesn't like it when others play in Stiles' sandbox, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, No really... I'm trying to be funny., Possessive Behavior, Shameless LOTR references, Smut, Sterek Campaign, bamf!Lydia, oblivious!Stiles, pining!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is about half a year from graduating and just about has managed to work up the nerve to tell Derek exactly what he’s been missing. It just goes to show you... making a wish on New Year’s while drunk off your ass was probably  NOT the most intelligent of ways to ring in the New Year</p><p> </p><p>Possibly triggery behavior of characters- please read notes at the end if you would like more specific spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FAERIES. FUCKING FAERIES.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hatteress (goddammitstacey)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddammitstacey/gifts).



**Title:**  Like a... Faerie!  
**Author:** 1lostone  
**Giftee:** [Hatterss](http://hatteress.tumblr.com/)  
**Warnings:** First time, use of shameless LOTR references (see notes at bottom if you want to be spoiled for other warnings/prompt) pining!Stiles, oblivious!Stiles, jealousy, possessiveness  
**Summary:**. Stiles is about half a year from graduating and just about has managed to work up the nerve to tell Derek exactly what he’s been missing. It just goes to show you... making a wish on New Year’s while drunk off your ass was probably the most intelligent of ways to ring in the New Year  
**Disclaimer:** Do people really read these? Plot Twist: I _do_ actually own these characters which is why they spent season three walking around with a limp. Clearly I speak no lies.. as evidenced by my mortgage and car payments.  
**A/N:**  [Hatterss](http://hatteress.tumblr.com/) **ACTUALLY DONATED MONEY FOR ME TO WRITE HER SOMETHING!** AHHHH!!! After I finished flailing all over myself, we immediately started emailing back and forth to iron out the pesky details. Apparently this is based on a Buffy ep (although that’s one show I haven’t watched yet- I know. Shocking!)  Thanks to both jlm121, diva0789 and mordraugsereg for whipping this bad boy into shape!  Also,thanks to the Sterek Campaign for putting this whole thing together. Even though I had nothing to do with it, I’m freakishly proud that   Hatterss donated $35 to _save the wolves. ~~with porn.~~_ Note: While this is a _technically_ a  WIP it is almost done. :) It should be finished Saturday. ~~  
~~

* * *

 

****

**FAERIES. FUCKING _FAERIES._**

**(Chapter 1)**

*****

  
  
If Stiles had been all the way in his right mind, he would have remembered why it was a really, _really_ bad idea for him to drink. Even after all this time, Scott never seemed to understand how someone with such a high metabolism could get so completely and utterly wasted so incredibly quickly. Still, it probably wouldn’t be the first time he woke up alone after a decision to drink himself stupid. Well, stupid _er_.  
  
He didn’t remember falling asleep in the clearing though. The last thing he remembered was walking, well. _Weaving_ past the Hale property on his way to his and Scott’s old spot in the woods.  
  
And his mouth tasted like ass.  
  
Stiles wrinkled his nose before moaning a little pathetically and flopping over onto his back.  His clothes were wet with condensation of the night dew, and it felt like there were at least seven disjointed symphonies playing at all different tempos behind his eyeballs.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
He wanted a shower. A metric fuckton of advil.  And some water. And...  
  
Stiles thought he heard a high-pitched giggle, followed by a brief caress on his forehead. His headache receded slightly. Stiles heard the giggle again, opened one eye, and frowned, looking around. He moved his head to the left, almost braining himself on the boulder that was placed in almost the perfect center of his little napping spot.  
  
He was alone. That was weird.  
  
Stiles cautiously sat up, glaring balefully down at the half-full bottle of tequila. Shit. He _hated_ tequila. Stiles blinked, groaning as the movement of his eyelashes caused his back teeth to throb in pain. At least some small, niggling remnant of memory surfaced and that made Stiles groan even more.    
  
There was nothing more pathetic than coming home from college only to realize that everyone you used to know had moved on enough to neither need nor want you around. Well, okay. He could have pushed. Scott and Allison had invited him over for breakfast. Hell, even Derek probably would have invited him over- if Stiles had bothered to let him know he was in Beacon Hills.  It was one thing to drive back home with the realization that you were finally going to do it. Finally going to Tell Him Everything... only to completely chicken out at the population city limits sign.  
  
Stiles groaned again. If he was anyone else, he’d be laughing at how pathetic they were.  
  
Stiles made his unsteady way to his feet, jumping when the low, deep voice spoke.  
  
“Ringing in the New Year with a whimper?”  
  
_Shit._  
  
_Shit fuck shit ball sucking shit._ Stiles winced, opened one eye again and saw Derek staring at him with his lips twisted into the familiar smirk that kept him running after the werewolf all through high school.  
  
“Did you know that you said that out loud?”  
  
“Uh. No. No I did not.” From the amused tone of Derek’s voice, Stiles could tell that it was the swearing, not the highly-embarrassing later thought that he’d said out loud. Stiles took a step forward, frowning when he heard the crinkle of parchment by his foot.    
  
“So I’m just going to go out on a limb here and say that you have no idea where you are.”  
  
Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, feeling faintly nauseous. “Um. Beacon Hills? I have spent a not insignificant portion of my formative years here, you know.”  
  
“Be nice, or I won’t share.” Stiles heard the tell-tale sound of a thermos being unscrewed and knew he was completely shameless at the way his mouth started to water when the scent of dark roast wafted over to him.  
  
“Oh man. Come on, not even you can be that much of a di--”  
  
“Stiles. _Stop_!”  The crack of Derek’s voice was like a gunshot. Even though Stiles hadn’t heard it lately, and certainly never with that tone of ... finality... to it, every cell in his body listened to the order implicit in that one syllable, freezing with one foot slightly higher than the other as Stiles started to walk out of the small clearing.  
  
“But. But...Caf _feine_!”  
  
Then Derek did something that made no sense to Stiles’ poor, hung over, dehydrated brain. He set down the thermos of coffee next to a small, flat rock and took a step forward, his hands up as though Stiles was holding a gun on him.  
  
“Do not move. No! Not one step! Do you....” The pause made Stiles nervous. Derek didn’t normally pause when he had bad news. He was more of a tell-it-straight-no-matter-how-painful guy. “Do you know anything about ...faerie rings?”  
  
“I’m guessing you’re not talking about the pride parade down Market street?”  
  
“Jesus, Stiles. Shut up. Okay. I need you to listen to me very carefully, okay? Take your left hand. No.” Derek rolled his eyes. “Your left hand, genius. Stretch it out at shoulder-height. Do not move it. Steady.. _steady_. Okay." Derek huffed out a shaky breath.  
  
Stiles felt even more nervous. He wasn’t sure what his gut was doing right now, but it didn’t leave a warm and fuzzy feeling in its wake. He was quickly approaching something much closer to pants-shittingly terrified at the barely controlled panic in Derek’s voice.  “A Faerie ring is ... well. Usually it involves some immortal yet benign presence taking pity on a virgin, but sometimes... sometimes they have the ability to...” Derek’s voice dropped. “Steal....your _soul_ ,” he whispered.  
  
Stiles tried not to blush himself to death at Derek’s offhand mention of virginity. For the first time, he noticed that he had woken up in the middle of a perfect circle of mushrooms, shining brightly in the sun that beamed down in the small clearing. Then what Derek actually _said_ registered and Stiles froze again, eyes wide.  “My. My... soul?” His whisper was strangled.  
  
Derek nodded solemnly. “So listen to what I say. You have to do what I say... perfectly, Stiles. No fuckups, okay?”  
  
Stiles’ lower lip trembled slightly, but he nodded.  
  
“Okay. Take your foot and lift it a little higher. Good. Good, Stiles. Now. Your right hand. Okay, it needs to go straight up. Point your first and third finger directly towards the sun.” Derek’s lips twitched, but Stiles was too focused on his words to notice.  “Okay. Good.” Derek looked down at the ground. “Okay... ready?”  
  
Stiles nodded.  
  
“Hop. Three times, being careful to land in _exactly_ the same spot each time. Ex _act_ ly, Stiles!”  
  
It took until the second hop for it to dawn on Stiles that Derek Hale was completely full of shit.  
  
“Hop?? _HOP?_? You... absolute... fucker! Fucking _Were_ wolves! Gaaaaaah!!!” Stiles bent to fling the half-empty bottle of tequila at Derek. It pissed him off even more when Derek dodged the small missile without even thinking about it, bent almost in half as he laughed his ass off.  
  
After six years of knowing the guy, Stiles could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Derek actually laugh.  It still gave him no small thrill to know that Stiles was still the only person Derek would relax with. Still, he liked how the fraught-with tension snarkiness had slowly developed into something much more... friendly.  When he’d left for college, they had gone weeks without talking to each other. At first. Now, hardly two or three days would go by without the two of them texting, or even picking up the phone if it was more pack business then general ‘how ya doing’ stuff. Stiles stomped forward, kicking at the closest mushroom and punching Derek on the arm, before swooping down and pulling the coffee protectively to his chest. Stiles might have gently cooed as he uncapped the thermos. Of course it was the perfect temperature, made exactly the way Stiles liked it.  
  
“Okay! Okay- sorry.” Derek got himself under control. “What’s that?” Derek indicated the piece of parchment that Stiles was still holding with a jerk of his chin. Stiles was too busy swirling in a haze of caffeinated bliss to answer, but when he smoothed the crumpled parchment out he had to blink a few times before the complete _weirdness_ registered.  
  
“Shit.” Stiles felt his headache come back with a vengeance. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.  He thought that he was past all this weird shit.  He practically had a degree in _business management_ , for Christ’s sake.  
  
Derek raised his eyebrows, looking from the parchment, to the faerie circle, to the kicked mushroom. He frowned, meeting Stiles’ frustrated gaze. “Fucking faeries, right?”

 

 

 


	2. LYDIA

*******

**LYDIA**

**(Chapter 2)**

********

  
  
Fortunately, for the sake of Stiles’ hangover, Derek let him take a shower at his place. In the four years since Stiles had graduated, Derek’s attitude wasn’t the only thing that had changed. The burnt-out husk of the Hale mansion had been replaced with a sprawling cabin, able to comfortably house Derek’s pack in the relatively comfortable manner to which they had been conditioned.  
  
It was a long fucking way from that warehouse-cum-abandoned train station thing Derek had going on previously.    
  
Stiles may or may not find himself thinking that destroying what was left of his family’s home was probably a pretty clear metaphor for Derek’s life.  Now, though, the Hale pack was a force to be reckoned with, and Stiles took no small amount of satisfaction at his own role in their reputation. Even if his own contributions were mostly by Skype or text.  
  
“Hey, thanks for the clothes. I was thinking that Lydia is pretty up on her weirdass languages. She might be able to translate that for me. I mean, if I’m going to be ass deep in this weird faerie shit, then I should probably know exactly which weird faerie shit that I’m ass deep in.” Stiles felt much, much better after a really greasy breakfast and about two gallons of water. The advil had gone without saying, and the caffeine and shower had him feeling a lot less sorry for himself, and a lot more ready to face his day. He’d just continue to ignore his pathetic little crush and everything would be just fine.  
  
Derek gave him a weird look for a second as Stiles wrestled with one of Derek’s old shirts. He’d filled out quite a bit (not to Derek’s impressive and frankly ridiculous amount of musculature of course) and given that Derek’s t-shirts were tight on him on a good day, thought that he didn’t look _too_ bad  in Derek’s old clothes. Okay, so his ass didn’t look anything like Derek’s in the worn pair of jeans.  (Stiles knew that he’d probably be revisiting the fact that he was wearing Derek Hale’s underwear in great detail, although quite a bit different circumstances, much later.  
  
“So, we’re going to Lydia’s then?”  
  
“Yup!” Stiles grabbed his last bit of toast and snatched up the piece of parchment, shoving it into his pocket. Lydia was still one of the smartest people Stiles knew. It was only luck that had her living a few minutes away, just when he needed her to decipher the latest bit of weirdness that had fallen into his lap.  “Ready when you are.” Habit was habit for a reason. Stiles and Lydia had found themselves thrown together so often, researching everything from witches to incubi that he defaulted to her knowledge as a matter of course.  
  
(...and really, there had _probably_ been less embarrassing ways to come out to everyone he knew, but having Ned the Incubus stalking towards Stiles through the streets of Beacon HIlls and Stiles just standing there, seconds from coming in his pants while his pack took the 700 year old creature down remained there at the top of the list.)  
  
“You ready?”

“Yep. I’m kind of surprised that Lydia is still based in Beacon Hills, though to be honest. I thought that she’d head for something bigger as soon as she graduated, like Boyd and Jackson did. ”  Stiles buckled his seatbelt as Derek started his car, forcing himself not to react when Derek’s arm brushed against the back of his neck as the werewolf put the car in reverse, backing out of the little driveway.

“Hmm.”  Derek frowned for some reason, driving towards Lydia’s apartment.  “Have you thought about... what your plans are now that you’re almost done with school?”

Stiles shook his head, ignoring the stupid little jolt he felt when Derek confirmed that he gave a shit about what Stiles was doing after he graduated. He’d had a few job offers, but he hadn’t made any decisions yet.  Before he’d chickened out, Stiles had kind of hoped Derek would give him a reason to stay here, in Beacon Hills. Still, he didn’t really want to bring that up at the moment. Nothing would suck more than soul-crushing embarrassment when Derek gave him his polite, socially-awkward, emotionally constipated version of “thanks but no thanks.”

Stiles changed the subject. “You know, the writing on the parchment looks familiar. Damnit, it’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue. I mean... is it a curse? Is it a warning? I _swear_ that I’ve seen it before. We really need to know what it says.”

Derek didn’t respond. Stiles was used to this and just rested his head against the backrest, feeling his lack of sleep. The problem was - even with Derek fucking with him about leaving the faerie ring - Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something really, truly important.  His fingers itched to start researching, but he hadn’t really planned for supernatural shenanigans when he came home for New Year’s.  Hell, he hadn’t even planned on staying that long.

"Hey, Stiles?"

"Hmm?"

"Why... why didn't you tell me thtat you were going to be in town? If Lydia hadn't texted me, I wouldn't have known." 

Stiles blinked. One of these days, he'd learn that telling Scott anything was pretty much akin to telling Allison. What Allison knew... Lydia knew.  "Ah.. "  Stiles trailed off He had nothing. Nothing that he could say without wanting to jump out of the car. The silence grew. Became awkward. Both Derek and Stiles were lost in their own thoughts, only moving when Derek shut off the ignition.

Lydia’s apartment wasn’t as swanky as she probably could have had. Part of that was because she shared it with Allison, but a lot of it was that Lydia was proud of the fact that she was no longer relying on either her parents or her boyfriend. Everything she accomplished, she did on her own terms. Lydia had long since given Derek a key (one of the perks about being Pack was that you pretty much always had somewhere to sleep if you needed it) so the two of them entered her apartment with very little fanfare. After unlocking the door, Derek stopped, frowned and swore under his breath.

“What?” Stiles raised his eyebrow.

“I left my phone in the car. She’s in the shower. Just wait here a sec.” Derek made a face then turned around to go back to the street, where they’d parked.

Stiles opened his mouth to ask - then rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. Of course. Derek could probably hear the shower clear as day. He shook his head, grinning a little at the fact Derek had been so focused on his thoughts that he’d forgotten his phone in the car. Rookie mistake. Stiles couldn’t count the number of times one of their lives had been saved by a timely text. “You don’t even have the excuse of being hungover! Lydia...? Hey girl! Get your language mojo flowin’. I have something for you to translate!”  Stiles was only peripherally aware of the front door shutting behind Derek as the other man jogged towards his car.

“Lyds? Are you he—“ Stiles cut off mid-syllable. He heard a weird groaning sound and caught a glimpse of red hair before Lydia had him pinned against the wall.

Stiles’ reflexes expected an attack. What he did _not_ expect was the way Lydia’s mouth attached to his, kissing him like Lydia was suffocating and Stiles was air.

“Eruurp!!”

Lydia wasn’t a wolf, but she wasn’t all the way _human_ either. Right now, Stiles was just aware of her wet body pressed to his, the towel hanging on her body by some miracle of physics.

Stiles almost brained himself moving away  from her mouth, the solid thunk of the back of his head hitting her drywall reverberating through his back teeth.  Lydia was curled against him so that she could touch as much of Stiles’ skin  as possible, rubbing against him cat-like. Stiles went up on his tippy-toes, only to make a rather undignified squeak of alarm when her nails trailed over the crotch of his jeans.

Stiles’ eyes bugged out of his head. He caught Lydia’s hand, caught between laughing this off, pinching himself to see if he was awake, and shrieking in maidenly shock.

“Am I interrupting?”

Stiles squeaked again, pressing his head even further into the wall so that he could meet Derek’s eyes. Derek’s lips were twisted in a smirk, but his eyes...? _Shit_. For one second, Stiles thought that Derek was just going to dive at him, attacking and snarling like the wolf he was.  “He--eyyyyahhh, watch the neck! _Jeez!_ ” Lydia had latched onto the spot just above Stiles’ collarbone and was nuzzling happily. “No! You’re _not_ interrupting, you absolute fucking dumbass, get her _off_!”

Derek actually blinked for a second. Stiles didn’t think he did ‘nonplussed,’ but he was at a loss to otherwise describe the expression on his face. Derek, even though he was Alpha, didn’t have the hold over Lydia that he had over the rest of the pack, so he had to physically touch the back of her neck.

If Stiles hadn’t been watching, he would never had believed it. There was... something. A current almost. An aura when Derek’s skin touched Lydia’s. Lydia jerked back with a gasp, yanking her hand out of Stiles clothes with a sharp twist of her wrist. Stiles felt a little ridiculous practically pushing himself into the wall, but he couldn’t seem to help himself as he met Lydia’s horrified gaze with his own.

“Um. Hi....?”

Lydia shook off Derek’s hand and hitched up her towel, covering all of the curvier bits with a roll of her eyes.

Stiles blinked. “Um.”  His brain was stuck somewhere between ‘actual, useful cognitive function’ and ‘heart attack.’ “Um.” Possibly a little repetitive, but it seemed to be working for him.

Lydia took another step back, frowning a bit at Derek until he let go of her shoulder. “Okay, so which one of you is planning on telling me what the actual fuck that was?” Stiles was too busy turning about fifteen different shades of red to respond.  Derek’s face was mask-like as his steely gaze flicked from Lydia to where her thigh still pressed against Stiles’ jeans.

Lydia threw up her hands, almost losing the towel in the process. “Jesus! Okay! I’m just going to go get dressed, and you two can do that... oh so _helpful_ avoidance thing you have going on.”

Stiles nervously licked his lips. He jolted when he realized that he could taste Lydia on his lips, and jolted again when he realized Derek was staring at his mouth.

Seriously. What the _hell._ Stiles felt the hangover, that until now, he’d believed had been wrestled into submission start to return. He couldn’t say how long it took for him to gently ease off of the wall and arrange his clothes to their original position (well, almost. Jumping up the wall away from Lydia had caused Derek’s underwear to hike uncomfortably up his ass, and Stiles would be damned if he’d fix _that_ with the way Derek was still staring at him). Stiles squirmed slightly and rummaged into his pocket for the now-crumpled note, smoothing it out on Lydia and Allison’s counter with hands that only shook a tiny bit.

They were both quiet until Lydia came back.  She rolled her eyes when she saw Derek. “Oh come on.” She waved her hand, somehow encompassing her sweats and tank top. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen the entire show before. _Either_ of you.”  
Stiles felt any lingering embarrassment vanish on the spot as he realized what Lydia was saying. Sure, his dad liked to remind him of the time Stiles had seen Lydia (and the fact that he tended to do that by randomly sending his only son his reaction helpfully captured by one of the other officers on his cameraphone on most major holidays was neither here nor there), but Derek? Stiles forced himself not to react to the fact that Derek had seen Lydia naked. _Obviously_ Derek had seen Lydia naked. No wonder he was acting so weird. Almost... jealous. As though they were.... oh.

Stiles was lucky that Derek hadn’t gone for his throat.  

He refused to acknowledge the sick feeling in his gut. Only the long, _long_ practice of keeping his shit together through various supernatural goings on kept Stiles’ face blank through this realization. He just blinked when Lydia snatched the crumpled piece of parchment out of his hand. She glanced at it once, then did a double-take.

God. He was going to throw up. Dimly, he heard Lydia snort and mutter something under her breath before stomping off to the living room that was crammed with bookshelves. Stiles was very careful not to touch Derek. He kept his gaze on the countertop, afraid that Derek would see how sick and jealous he was if he met his eyes for even a second. Derek. _And Lydia._

The crazy thing was - if Derek could get past his Crazy Kate shit enough to start up a real relationship with a packmate, then Stiles was honestly glad for him. Or... he would be, once he stopped gnawing on his own liver.

“Stiles.”

Stiles jumped, sucking in a small, pained breath. He forced a smile but still couldn’t quite meet Derek’s eyes. To his shock, Derek actually reached out to touch him. Stiles watched Derek’s fingers brush against his wrist with something very much like shock, the muscles in his face feeling like they were completely frozen. Stiles knew he was absolutely shit at lying to Derek. Still, he took a second to close his eyes and breathe before looking up; his gaze quickly skittering over Derek’s.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , you two make this almost too easy.” Lydia jostled her way in between the two of them, slamming a thick book down with a dusty _fwuuump_.

“Okay, don’t freak.” Before Stiles could blink, Lydia bent a little at the waist and leaned, kissing Stiles quickly on the lips. Stiles did his impression of a deer-in-the-headlights thing again, but before he could react Lydia was nodding to herself and flipping through the thick, dusty book on the table.  She grabbed the parchment again, looking from it to the book and back again, muttering under her breath.

Lydia’s kiss had been almost too brief to feel. From the way Derek was staring at him, Stiles was hyper-aware of his own mouth. Stiles licked his lips nervously, trying not to notice the way Derek’s gaze darkened as he watched him.  
  
“Not to be rude or anything, but I figured out your little mystery. If you guys could quit with the eye-fuh--er.” Lydia trailed off as Derek’s gaze swiveled to meet hers. Lydia coughed. “Right. Well, I’m surprised that you didn’t recognize this right away, Stiles. I mean, someone is gonna take away your geek cred if you’re not careful.”  
  
Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “See? I _know_. I know there’s something about that I should understand. It’s so familiar.” Stiles frowned, looking down at the book.  
  
“Lydia.”  
  
Oh, shit. If Derek was going back to one-word sentences, then they were _both_ fucked. Stiles didn’t think he’d heard those since Derek’s uncle was killed.

Again.    
  
“Okay!” Lydia rolled her eyes and blew out a frustrated breath.  It was a move that Stiles recognized from high school, when Lydia felt someone was too stupid to live. Stiles wasn’t sure if she was frustrated at him, or at Derek, but he made a special point of trying to concentrate. He could deal with Derek being pissed off at him for kissing Lydia (were they like... together? Was it just some weird pack thing?) later. Much later. Like three days after never, later.  
  
“It’s the job that’s never started as takes longest to finish.”  
  
Stiles blinked.  
  
Lydia stared at him expectantly. “Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.”  She cocked her head, a little grin on her face.  
  
Stiles knew he was missing something when _Derek_ rolled his eyes and pointed to the parchment.  “One ring to rule them all? One ring to find them? Stiles. It’s written in Elf.”  
  
Lydia made a sound that reminded Stiles of a dying cat. “It’s not ‘ _elf_ ’. Jesus. It’s _Tengwa_ r.” She flipped a few pages to an alphabet, and pointed from it to the parchment, like a magician revealing their magic trick to a tent full of yokels.  
  
Stiles’ jaw dropped. “Are you fucking shitting me?” He reached for his phone and took a picture of the parchment. “I can’t even.” He scrolled through a few websites. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah I can. I have to be wearing a sign asking for supernatural creatures to blatantly fuck with me.” He saw Lydia and Derek doing some serious eye communication out of the corner of his eyes, and did his best to ignore them; to ignore the jealousy that still sparked in his gut.  
  
He had no excuse for not realizing the connection. Stiles’ only possible defense was that he’d been somewhat distracted by the sudden, close proximity to Derek Hale.    
  
“Derek I thought you said it was a faire circle. Not an _elvish_ circle.” Stiles frowned down at his phone then shut his eyes, hoping that maybe if he didn’t look right at the face of his phone there’d be something else written there when he did peek. So far as a coping strategy it hadn’t had the best success rate. Especially when he’d realized that the monsters under the bed were really monsters... under his bed. True, that had only been that one time... and Derek was hiding from Stiles’ dad...

Whatever. Still... it was worth a shot.  
  
Stiles opened one eye, then focused down on his phone. “Fuck _me_. Anyone want to explain why some immortal whatsit is communicating with some fake language?”  
  
“Wait. How do you know what it says? And what on earth makes you think that Tengwar isn’t real?” Lydia did that weird frowny thing with her eyebrows that used to make Stiles’ nuts crawl up into his gut.  
  
Derek, never one to worry about awkward social cues, spoke over her. “And how the hell did you translate that so fast?” The unspoken ‘ _when you didn’t even recognize it_ ’ hung heavily in the small kitchen.  
  
Seriously. Sometimes? His life was like some overly-dramatic teen comedy.  
  
Stiles sighed, frowning. With an inward wince, he turned the phone so both Derek and Lydia could see the translation:

[ _Unashamed pleas manifest in your heart's greatest desire._ ](http://tengwar.art.pl/tengwar/ott/english.php)

[ _Courted until Love's passion_ ](http://tengwar.art.pl/tengwar/ott/english.php)

[ _changes your heart from one to two._ ](http://tengwar.art.pl/tengwar/ott/english.php)

[ _Be careful what you wish for, Stiles._ ](http://tengwar.art.pl/tengwar/ott/english.php)

  
Stiles could feel himself blushing. The silence was endlessly awkward. The seconds ticked by slowly, and with each second that passed Stiles’ face grew more and more flushed.  
  
“Stiles...” Derek sounded confused. The evil blank face of doom had bled away to a look of caution.  Derek’s face reminded Stiles of his dad’s when he was about to ask a question that he knew that he wasn’t going to like the answer to-- but had to ask anyway. “What.... What exactly were you doing in that clearing?”


	3. COURTED (With Love's Passion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day. 
> 
> (hehehhehe)

*******

**COURTED (With Love’s Passion)**

**(Chapter 3)**

********

  
Lydia clapped her hands together. “So! I’m hungry. Who’s hungry? Derek? Stiles? Stiles is looking a bit peckish, Derek, you should go get us coffees. Ohhh, and danish. You can’t really go wrong with cheese danish.”   
  
Stiles flicked his gaze back down to his phone. If avoiding eye contact was an Olympic sport, Stiles would have three gold medals and twelve different sponsors by now.  He was peripherally aware of Lydia tossing some money at Derek and practically shooing the werewolf out of the door. Derek clearly didn’t want to go, and Stiles would cite chapter and verse about immovable objects and irresistible forces, but having known both Lydia and Derek and their respective amount of stubbornness for at least a third of his life, _and_ given the fact that Derek was actually _leaving Lydia and Allison’s apartment_ he figured that was a waste of time.   
  
The two of them were silent until the roar of the Camaro's engine had faded away.   
  
“Alright, Stilinski. We’ve got maybe ten minutes. Spill.”   
  
Stiles looked up at Lydia, absolutely miserable. “Well, this is gonna sound a little weird.”  
  
“Weirder than me trying to claw inside your body with my vagina? ‘Believe me, Stiles. That was beyond weird.” Lydia  made a face. She coughed. “Er. No offense.”  
  
Stiles remembered the weird purple spark of whatever that had jumped from Lydia to Derek once she’d touched him. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, apologize, beg... _something_ , but instead flopped his head down on his arms, feeling like complete crap.   
  
“I think I’ve been cursed.”   
  
He felt Lydia’s hand rubbing the back of his head and sighed. It wasn’t that long ago that if anyone told him that Lydia Martin would be rubbing her fingers through his hair, he would have wondered just what it was that they were smoking.   
  
“Yeah. ‘Unashamed pleas manifest in your heart's greatest desire’. That seems pretty straightforward. You asked for something while you were drunk, and something decided to mess with you a little.”  
  
Stiles nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. He should have known that Lydia would put it together. She was the smartest person he knew.   
  
“And the... ‘Courted until Love's passion changes your heart from one to two’ is also pretty self-explanatory, given the aforementioned molestation.”  
  
“Er. Do I need to apologize for that?”  Stiles raised his head.   
  
“Nooope.” Lydia smirked a little, drawing the word out so that it was two syllables long.  “I was curious.” She shrugged. “And _._ Did you see Derek’s _face_?!”   
  
They both heard the familiar slam of Derek’s car door. Both Stiles and Lydia jumped; Stiles’ arm flinging out almost without his brain being aware. His phone skittered across the table, crashing into Lydia’s sugar dish.  Lydia looked at her clock and sighed.  “Five minutes. He probably didn’t even make it to the stop sign.”  She scratched her nails companionably against the back of Stiles’ neck and sat up, grabbing her book and put it back on the shelf.  “I would just tell him, Stiles. Drawing it out isn’t helping anyone. You’ll just get hurt if you--”  
  
“Hurt?” Stiles swore he could practically feel Derek’s gaze burning into the back of his head.  Derek had gotten very, very good at growling and talking at the same time. The sound never failed to raise the little hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck. “One of you better tell me---”  
  
“Oh calm down there, grouch. Your precious Stiles is fine. We had a good talk during the three whole seconds that you were able to tear yourself away. And normally, while you’d be banned for life from coming back here without danish _or_ caffeine, in the interest of ending eight? nine? years of endless and quite frankly ridiculous anticipation, I’m just gonna go ahead and kick the both of you out now. Stiles knows what the note means. He can tell you.”    
  
Stiles’ head jerked up from where it rested comfortably on his folded arms.  
  
Then, because Lydia was kind of a dick when the mood struck her, she bent down to kiss Stiles on the top of his head, gracefully dodged around Derek standing there with his jaw jutting out, arms crossed over his chest, practically screaming out how utterly pissed off he was and turned to toss them a flirty little wave.  
  
“Have a good day, guys. Text me before you go back to school, Stiles.”   
  
Stiles nodded, feeling like he was about ten steps behind the other two. He could almost hear the significant eye contact happening above his head. Stiles knew that had come from his choosing to leave Beacon Hills, and the way the pack had just kind of jived without him. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t wish he was still in with them, instead of on the fringes.   
  
Stiles managed a wave and turned, barely remembering to grab his phone as he walked out of Lydia’s apartment. He was two blocks away, completely lost in thought before it occurred to him that Derek had been walking beside him, silent.   
  
They had passed the park, the small hub that twilighted as either a farmers market or flea market depending on the day and season, and turned towards the school before Stiles spoke.  “So, I’ve been hit by some kind of love whammy curse. I think the faeries are kind of fucking with me. Or, possibly elves? Whatever. She/He/It told me to be careful what I wish for, then named me by name.”  
.  
Derek sucked in a shocked breath, stopping mid-step. It was always bad when immortal creatures knew your name. Like... _soul-in-thrall_ , bad. _Slave-for-all-eternity_ , bad. Didn’t really matter what flavor of creature really. They all tended to be kind of handsy when it came to Names.   
  
“Bil...inski?”   
  
Derek’s head whipped around so quickly that Stiles didn’t even see the whole movement of his neck.  Stiles jerked his own gaze up from his sneakers, only to have his eyes widen in abject fear. Coach Finstock, resplendent in an old Cyclones t-shirt and polyester trackies that Stiles was pretty much certain were only sold to members of the coaching profession who had been coaching in  the 1970s, took a cautious step forward.   
  
Stiles took an equally spaced step backwards, remembering how Lydia had thrown herself at him. Whatever this curse was- the people it affected didn’t seem to have much recourse.  
  
[“Bilinski.. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What’s it look like?”](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0332280/)  
  
Stiles started to open his mouth. “Uh.  Hello, there, Coach...” Stiles ignored the way Derek tensed beside him, muscles ready to spring into action.  
  
“[What I really want to do with my life — what I want to do for a living — is I want to be with you, Bilinski. I’m good at it](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098258/).”   
  
Oh no. No, no no no. It was bad enough  hearing this shit from him during every championship game.... but this? This had to be one of the lower circles of Hell. This could _not_ be happening. Stiles watched as his former coach shifted his weight, the look on his face settling to something very much like flirty. Stiles wondered briefly if it was possible to give yourself a lobotomy so that he could erase what that looked like from his brain. Surely that shit had to be on youtube.   
  
Coach cocked his head to the side, winking. “[Oh, don’t worry about your friend there. I’m very discreet but… I will haunt your dreams](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0405422/).” His voice lowered. Stiles watched, utterly horrified as Finstock dropped down to his knees, ignoring the way the cartilage cracked like gunshots. “[Coaching was the best thing that ever happened to me… it brought me to you … You must do me this honor, Bilinski. Promise me you’ll survive. That you won’t give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Bilinski and never let go of that promise.”](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120338/?ref_=sr_1)

  
Coach moved forward on one knee, his hand reaching out in supplication.  
  
“Um yeah, no.” Derek turned, giving Coach Finstock a not so gentle nudge with his hip as he grabbed Stiles. Stiles had one fleeting impression of the heat of Derek’s hands on his hips, the humid breath on his face before Derek swung Stiles up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Derek was strong enough to hold him so that Stiles didn’t bounce up and down as he jogged away.   
  
Stiles watched his former Coach shake his head, heard the muttered, “[No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how,](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0031381/?ref_=sr_1)” before an expression of absolute and sheer horror crossed his former coach’s face. It was the exact same look Lyida’s face had sported after Derek had shocked her with the weird purple mojo.  As Derek turned the corner, Stiles was pretty sure he saw Finstock whacking his own head against the pavement.   
  
Stiles could fucking relate.


	4. NO, *SERIOUSLY*. FUCKING *FAERIES*. (part deux)

*******

**NO, _SERIOUSLY_. FUCKING _FAERIES_. (part deux)**

**(Chapter 4)**

********

  
“Explain.”  
  
“Er. Well, as... utterly... horrifying as that was, I’m pretty sure Coach watches a lot of movies. he kept using this part from Independence Day. It would drive us bugsh--”  
  
Derek actually growled, his knuckles popping as he clenched his fingers together. Stiles licked his lips nervously, pressing against Derek’s breakfast counter. He wasn’t sure what the deal was with him and counters lately, but he couldn’t seem to get away from them. He was uncomfortably aware that his heart was thumping in his chest like a small, trapped animal, and like a small, trapped animal, Derek could hear every single panicked thud.  It was probably stupid to try to bluff his way out of this, but... well. Fuck it.  
  
“Cut the bullshit, Stiles. I want to know why you’re in danger. I want you to explain what the stupid note said, and I _really_ fucking want to know why Lydia and Finst--”  
  
Stiles held up his hand, interrupting before Derek could say his former coach’s name.  “Can we please not?” Stiles shuddered, then sucked in a breath as he realized something.  “You know? I think I just figured something out.” He cocked his head as he thought, tapping the tip of his finger on his bottom lip. “Me ‘n’ Lydia spent most of our high school years playing second, or in her case third, _fourth_ fiddle to you guys and your top secret werewolf shit.  What you’re feeling now? Like you’re out of the loop? That’s kind of how I’ve felt since meeting you, man.” Stiles forced a smile.  
  
Derek took a step forward. Stiles felt like all of the air in the room disappeared in Derek’s wake, leaving him breathless. He froze, his heart going even faster. Derek wouldn’t let him avoid eye contact, although he did reach out slowly, giving Stiles ample time to pull away before touching his chin and tilting his head up. Stiles felt Derek’s gaze like a punch to the solar plexus.  
  
“Stiles.”  
  
Stiles shivered. His tongue slid out to wet his dry lips again, and Stiles was horribly aware of the dry sound it made at the small movement. He was even _more_ aware of the way Derek’s gaze dropped down to Stiles’ mouth before jerking back up to meet Stiles’ own shocked expression.  
  
The silence stretched. Stiles didn’t move from his spot on the counter, desperately trying not to do something utterly stupid, like throw himself at Derek. It wasn’t the first time that he’d mistaken pack closeness for something too intimate. It had been a hard realization that just because he wanted to see something, didn’t mean it was real.  
  
“Let’s start with you being cursed. Why does the whatsis know your Name?”  
  
“I… the ‘note’ was kind of a warning, I guess. I mean, if the only thing that I get out of this is that elves are apparently real and like to punk humans, then so be it. Ha. Haha.”  Derek’s face didn’t so much as twitch. Stiles bit his lip and sighed, closing his eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was easier to talk without Derek’s gaze boring into his. “I was told to be careful what I wish for. I think the ‘curse’ is that everyone I come in contact will… want... me.” Stiles winced. “I guess _they’re_ really the ones who’ve beencursed, right?”  
  
He opened his gaze to see that Derek had moved back slightly, staring down at him with a carefully blank look on his face.  
  
Note to self. Self-deprecation was apparently a no-go.  
  
“So... uh. Yeah. Lydia and-” Stiles felt his face twitch into a grimace. Derek didn’t move, and Stiles could feel himself sliding into the Stilinski Babble.  “And coach… that’s what was up with that. I guess that should show me, huh? Next time I get drunk and am feeling sorry for myself, don’t do either of those things in a faerie circle, right?”  
  
Derek just stared at him, almost without blinking. “Not ... quite.” Derek deliberately moved the slightest breath closer. His hands seemed huge where he had planted them palms down on the counter, bracketing the outside of Stiles’ hips. Derek was so close to him that if he moved either of his pinkie fingers even the slightest bit, he’d be touching Stiles hips through his jeans. The puff of his breath was humid against Stiles’ flushed cheeks. “The thing is... I’m not cursed. I haven’t thrown myself at you. I haven’t kissed you or quoted.... whatever the fuck that was. I’ve been able to touch you all day with absolutely no effect. And I think I know why.”  
  
Stiles felt like he was going to pass out. He felt like his whole world was right in front of him, focused intensely through Derek’s green eyes.    
  
“W-w-why?”  His voice was unrecognizable as his own; the weakest croak of sound.  
  
“Tell me what you wished for.”  
  
Stiles froze. He heard his throat click as he swallowed hard. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell Derek that! Not if he ever wanted to show his face here again. Stiles didn’t know what was going on between Derek and Lydia, or Derek and... well whatever. It didn’t matter. He’d made the right decision to not tell Derek why he’d driven down here over break and--  
  
“Tell me. What. You wished for.” Derek moved almost impossibly closer, tracing the line of Stiles’ jaw with his nose, leaving the barest bit of space between his skin and Stiles’ jaw. “ _Please_.”  
  
The thing was, Stiles knew that werewolves could smell want. Pheromones, arousal, desire, the heat of his skin... whatever. Scott had once told him that it was so common that he had to learn to block the prevalent scents throughout high school before they made him sick. (Although Scott may have confessed to absolutely love knowing exactly when Allison wanted him. Stiles had kind of cringed and changed the subject.) Stiles _knew_ Derek had to know what he was feeling right now.  
  
He knew that Derek could tell that his whole body was lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree, that Stiles’ muscles were practically trembling  as he tried to stay in place, tried not to just lean into whatever the fuck it was that Derek was---  
  
Oh.  
  
 _Ohh._  
  
If Derek had left him enough room to move, Stiles would have facepalmed.  
  
Derek’s amused snort didn’t exactly help.  
  
Stiles leaned forward that last microscopic inch and rubbed his cheek against the chiseled line of Derek’s jaw.  “You know. Same thing every guy wishes when he’s drunk off his ass and has just realized that heartfelt confessions kind of make him look like a dumbass.”  He could hear the scrape of their skin as it brushed, neither of them having shaved since earlier.  Well. _Stiles_ hadn’t shaved. Who the hell knew with Derek.  
  
Derek’s fingers clenched against the counter, brushing lightly against the denim of Stiles’ borrowed jeans.  
  
Stiles slowly moved his cheek down Derek’s jaw until his lips brushed against the other man’s ear. Derek jumped, making a low sound in his chest as he heard Stiles inhale, copying the pack greeting he’d seen Derek give hundreds of times. Stiles ad-libbed the little brush of his lips in the hollow behind Derek’s ear, but if the way Derek’s hands pressed into his hips was any indication, Derek didn’t really mind.  
  
“Con--fessions?” Derek sounded almost breathless. Stiles felt a small spurt of confidence and straightened his shoulders, pulling away from Derek’s so that he could look up at his face. Derek looked almost blissed out. His eyelids were heavy, and what Stiles could see of his eyes showed mostly pupil, surrounded by a small ring of green. It was pretty clear that Derek had lost most of the thread of the conversation.  
  
“Yeah.” Stiles leaned forward. Derek didn’t move, not even to tilt his head for Stiles’ kiss. Stiles stopped a mere breath from touching Derek’s lips. He could hear his heartbeat thundering crazily in his ribs. Derek’s hands lightly kneaded the skin on Stiles’ hipbones, flexing his fingers as though he couldn’t possibly keep himself still.  
  
Stiles flicked his tongue to taste at Derek’s bottom lip, teasing them both. He could feel Derek’s muscles freeze as though he’d been electrocuted. Derek’s fingers pressed into Stiles’ hips for only a second, but it was enough to make him gasp. Before Stiles could move in again, the overly jaunty ringtone on his cell startled them both into separating. Derek actually winced, staring at Stiles’ phone like it had just done something unforgivable.

**_I  like big BUTTS and I cannot lie! You other brothers can’t deny...._ **

  
Stiles squeaked and dived for the phone, fumbling a little in his haste. Instead of ignoring the call, Stiles not only managed to answer it, but put the damn thing on speakerphone.  
  
Jesus fucking Christ. He really _was_ going to die a virgin.  
  
“Stiles?”  
  
Stiles winced at Lydia’s voice. He sheepishly met Derek’s raised eyebrow with his own gaze. Derek mouthed ‘Really?’and Stiles only wanted to die a little-- until he realized that Derek pretty much had blackmail material against him for the rest of his natural life. Possibly into the afterlife.  
  
“Hey. Is Derek around? He’s not picking up.”  
  
It was Derek’s turn to look sheepish as he dug in his pockets for his phone. He had turned it off.  “Yeah, Lydia. What do you want?”  
  
“Well....” She trailed off. “I think I found the place where Stiles was cursed.”  
  
Stiles licked his lips, staring at Derek’s mouth.  He was having issues concentrating.  
  
Derek leaned over slightly so that his voice was nearer to Stiles’ phone. “How do you know?”  
  
“Um. Well that’s the thing. There’s this little elf-looking... guy. And he won’t let me leave until he’s spoken to the two of you.”


	5. FOR YOUR OWN GOOD (Or so we're told)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry- I thought I could get all of that in one chapter. Notice I added one more chapter- It should be up soon!

*******

**FOR YOUR OWN GOOD (Or so we’re told)**

**(Chapter 5)**

********

The woods seemed strangely quiet in that weird kind of way they did when a predator appeared unexpectedly, as though all the cute and fuzzy little creatures were collectively holding their breath, waiting to see what had come to eat them.   
  
Stiles had no problems recognizing the clearing. He could still see the almost perfect circle of mushrooms, minus the one he’d kicked. They had a weird sort of almost ethereal glow to them. With a double-blink, and a shake of his head, Stiles recognized the weird purple mojo that had come off of Lydia (and presumably off of Finstock) outlining the mushrooms with a barely discernable haze.   
  
Lydia stood with her arms crossed, her long hair moving around slightly in the wind. Stiles couldn’t see any wounds on her. He saw Derek tilting his head slightly to scent the air, and with a quick, shared glance saw that Lydia had not been harmed.   
  
“Hey! About time you two lovebirds got here!”   
  
Lydia made a disgusted huff of a sound and moved slightly to her left. The rock where Stiles had barely avoided braining himself earlier was now occupied by a very... small...  
  
“Faerie. Jesus, close your mouth, there Opie. You’re standing next to a werewolf for Pete’s sake. I’m thinking that I’m not the only immoral that you’ve met, yeah? Hey, come here for a sec, man. I wanna show you something.”  
  
Stiles closed his mouth with a little “pop” of sound.  He actually took several steps forward before he realized that Lydia was frantically shaking her head ‘no’. Derek growled, but the faerie moved faster. There was a bright burst of purple light and before Stiles could blink, he and Lydia had switched places.    
  
Literally.   
  
Lydia stood with Derek’s hand around her arm, as though Derek had moved to do the same to Stiles before they switched places, and Stiles found himself gaping out at Derek and Lydia from about five feet or so away. He turned to stare at the Faerie, trying not to show his nervousness. The only bad thing about hanging with Derek’s pack was that nine times out of ten when some kind of supernatural being decided to come out and play, they weren’t always willing to play by the rules. Still, Stiles couldn’t shake the “elf” idea. Pointed ears... long, blonde hair... Stiles knew his Tolkien, okay? Granted, the closest Stiles had ever actually come to an elf was at Comic Con, when he’d taken a picture with a Legolas cosplayer.    
  
This guy? Looked nothing like him. He was tiny- about the size of Stiles’ arm. He was wearing a little tunic and boots that were a lot more Keebler Elf than Child of Ilúvatar.  He did have the pointed ears though.   
  
“Oh my god! I’m not a fucking _elf_! Faerie _circle_!” The faerie gestured around him. “Faerie _dust_!” Siles sneezed as he took a facefull. For purple whammy dust, it tasted strangely like peppermint. “Faerie _wings_!” He turned and unfurled a pair of wings that glittered and shone in the fading light from the evening. “Faaaaaaiiiirr--- eeeeee! Not an _elf!_ ”   
  
“Well, why did you write me using Tengwar?” Stiles didn’t even bother asking about the apparent telepathy. Of _course_ the little magical guy could read minds.   
  
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Do I look like a fucking hobbit to you? They don’t even use that on this side of the pond. Besides, _that_ wasn’t _my_ idea.” The faerie flew, zipping over to Lydia and chucking her under the chin.  Stiles could see how Derek tensed, ready to spring into action. Obviously the faerie could too. He hovered just out of reach of the two of them. While they were distracted, Stiles tried to take a step out of the circle. He gasped when he felt the pain, swaying on his feet. It felt as though hundreds of knives were stabbing into him, just under his skin. It _hurt._  
  
“Ah, ah, ahhh! Let’s all just calm down for a bit, shall we? I think we should start with introductions. I know Red, and this is your Wolf, and of course I know you... Stiles.” The faerie almost purred his name, showing off a lot of teeth with a grin.  “But how rude! I can’t of course tell you my whole name, but there are some who call me... Tim.”   Tim raised an eyebrow, staring down at Derek and Lydia.  He sighed, shaking his head.    
  
Stiles found himself trying not to smirk _. He_ got the joke.    
  
 _Of course you do. That’s why you’re my favorite._  
  
Stiles jumped at hearing the fond tone in his head. Out loud,  Tim continued: “I think there needs to be a few things explained. It’s not that I mind fucking with you, but Jesus. You two really should come with some sort of a disclaimer!”   
  
“Hey! You said you wouldn't hurt them!” Lydia’s eyes narrowed in a way that usually involved testicles crawling up to hide somewhere warm and safe.   
  
The faerie didn’t look too impressed.   
  
Stiles took a step back, and looked over at Derek, smiling a little wryly. He stuck his hands in his pockets and breathed slowly. Stiles wanted to try for the barrier again, but the pain-memory was still fresh in his head.   
  
“Okay!” Tim clapped his hands. “ Now that I have everyone’s attention. I don’t have all day- so here’s the quick version. Red here,” he fluttered over Lydia’s head, “was owed a little favor. She called it in. Now. Let’s be clear. Normally, when you have a favor owed to you by one of the fey, you tend to get the big three. Yanno.. pull an Aladdin. Riches! Wealth! Fucking _fame_ , right? Nope? Not this purty little lady. She tells me that she has this problem. Two of the most stubborn people she knows, right? You see where I’m going with this?”  
  
Stiles did. Oh shit. Stiles really did.  While he and Derek were in Derek’s kitchen, Stiles had had a few bright moments where he thought that maybe... _maybe_ Derek could be into him. But one thing the foul-mouthed tinkerbell had going for him was an easy access to magic. If he could curse Lydia and Coach Finstock, then cursing Derek would be child’s play. _That_ would explain his and Derek’s almost make-out session against his counter.  The idea that Derek’s actions could have been just as controlled and out of his control as Lydia’s and Finstocks...  
  
There was a quick flash of light, and Stiles felt a tiny-handed whack on the back of his head.   
  
_Quit that!  My magic doesn’t_ work _on wolf-boy over there. Duh.  There was a very good reason that your hunka hunka here wasn’t affected by my magic. Here let me prove it to you...”_  
  
There was another flash of light, a weird heated sensation, and Stiles was left stark naked, still unable to leave the circle. Stiles squeaked, covering his junk in a move that had to look as ridiculous as it felt.   
  
Derek growled, springing towards the faerie in a movement that showed very clearly that he had never been human. Stiles caught just a fleeting glimpse of bunched muscles before Derek almost seemed to blur as he moved. There was a sound like an out of tune bell being struck too hard, and Derek fell back onto the ground outside the circle with a snarl, shaking his head sharply to clear it.  
  
The faerie just shook his head, looking like the three of them were too stupid to live. “Anyway. She wanted some help. And I was allllll set to help, right? We even had this plan worked out. Then boom! You show up,” he smirked at Stiles, “Staggering into my circle. Shame it wasn’t a full moon. You’re pretty cute.”  
  
Stiles discovered what it felt like to turn twelve different shades of red. He shifted on his left foot, edging slightly away from the demented little flying bastard in front of him, and closer to where Derek had picked himself up off the ground, still growling in the back of his throat, eyes bleeding red. Stiles hadn’t seen that in several years, but it still never failed to send his heart thudding in his chest. He was horribly, painfully aware that he was stark naked. Stiles very carefully stared down at the ground, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.  
  
 _Demented bastard? Oh honey. I’ll show you demented. Hang tight, sweetcheeks._  
  
With the now familiar flash of light, Stiles found himself with an armful of werewolf. He heard Derek's low, dark sound of surprise and heard his own answering squeak of shock. Stiles coughed, panicking a little when his throat closed up. Derek stared down at him, the red in his eyes bleeding back to more human-looking concern. Stiles forced himself to breathe normally. He opened his mouth to speak, but had no voice. Tim had accomplished what many, many before him had fervently wished: Stiles was literally speechless.  
  
"I could just leave you both like this, you know. As much fun as that would be, I don't think either of the two of you are up to providing dinner and a show, yeah?"  
  
Stiles watched as Derek turned only the muscles in his neck, watching the faerie as he zoomed overhead, like a particularly snarky butterfly.  Derek was tensed to attack, but still held Stiles gently, as though they’d embraced every day of their lives. Stiles huffed out a breath that sounded as impatient as he felt. He shivered at the touch of Derek's warm palm as it rested on the small of his back, fingers just brushing the edge of Stiles' lower spine. It was as though once his brain had identified and acknowledged Derek’s touch, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.   
  
"Whatever it is that you're planning...." The words might have sounded calm, but Stiles could feel the frustration underneath them as Derek spoke.  
  
"Oh my _God_. Dude, I think you watch too many movies. You're as bad as that Coach admirer of Stiles'."  
  
Both Stiles and Derek cringed at the mention of Coach Finstock.   
  
“Okay, so the terms of Red’s contract say that I can’t hurt either one of you. Pity, really. I still owe you for taking out my mushroom. That shit was just rude, man.”  
  
Stiles blinked.  He hadn’t meant to ruin anything. Stiles couldn’t honestly blame his little spurt of fungal vandalism on the tequila. Maybe it had just been his shity mood. Stiles had been so disappointed in himself, disappointed that even after all of this he was still too much of a dumbass to just call Derek and try to explain what he felt. The tequila had seemed like a good idea at the time. Him kicking the mushroom might have just been an expression of his own hungover frustration, but it had obviously had its own ramifications. Stiles vowed that once he got out of this, he’d make a special point of studying the fae and their little foibles.  He didn’t try to prevaricate. Besides, lying to a creature that could read your mind was not the best of ideas- and Stiles’ dad hadn’t raised any idiots.    
  
Well, maybe Scott. But that was debatable.   
  
Hallmark didn’t make shit for events like these. _I’m sorry,_ Stiles thought, surprised to realize that even after all of this he really was sorry.   
  
“Hmm. I think you really mean that. What do you think, Red?”  
  
Lydia cleared her throat. Stiles looked up in time to see that she and Derek were doing another one of their silent communication things and quickly jerked his gaze down, focusing on the curve of Derek’s throat, jealousy leaving his own throat tight. Stiles honestly didn’t know whether to feel bad for having Lydia watch him naked in Derek’s arms like this, or feel justified that her little “deal” had ended up with him naked in Derek’s arms.  
  
Honestly, it was the ‘naked in Derek’s arms’ part that was taking a little getting used to.  
  
“I think that you’ve fulfilled the terms of our agreement.” Lydia’s voice made Stiles jump. He heard Tim sniff. “Hmm. So I have. Well I don’t think we need you anymore. Ta!” Stiles looked up just in time to see the poof of purple light dissipate. Lydia was no longer standing there.   
  
“Oh don’t worry, gentlemen.  She’s fine. Home snug as a bug in a rug and probably already on the phone. Here, as a gesture of goodwill towards man.... and. er, werewolf, here.” Tim waved his arm, and Stiles felt the muscles of his throat relax. “I just want to make a few things perfectly clear.  One. To my knowledge, Derek and Red have never bumped uglies.  I’m pretty sure that they’d both be horrified to know that you believed that, Stiles.” Stiles jumped when Derek’s fingers tightened reflexively on his lower back. They were standing so close that Stiles could hear the quickened thud of Derek’s heart beneath his clothes.   
  
“Two: Neither of you have been under the influence of my magic at any time during this whole process, aside from the short time here. _Technically,_ I suppose that the amount of pheromones the two of you put off around each other are intoxicating enough, but neither of you can be sucked under by that unless your ears are as pointy as mine. Good thing, too! Whew!” Tim waved his hand in front of his nose. “Powerful stuff. Imma gonna need a few moments alone when all this is worked out, if you know what I mean.” Tim leered. Stiles felt like he’d been punched.   
  
If Derek hadn’t ... been influenced to ... then. Then that meant that...  
  
“Three: You are both seriously _stupidly_ in love with each other. _There._ I said it.” Tim exhaled, as though he’d been holding in that secret for years.   
  
Time seemed to stretch. Stiles felt ridiculous for the way his stupid heart jumped into his throat, only to realize that they weren’t quite out of it yet.  “So... you’re just going to let us go?” Stiles’ kept his voice low.   
  
Tim gave a tiny shrug. “Something like that.” His grin turned absolutely wicked. “I’m just gonna leave you two here for a bit.” He wiggled his fingers.   
  
Stiles saw a small flash of light go off between the two of them, and took a shocked step backwards. Derek didn’t move his hand. If anything, his tensed fingers spoke volumes about how much he wanted to let Stiles go.   
  
“I would have just applied it for you, but that’s part of the fun. You two take care. And next time, Stiles? When you’re feeling lonely and a bit pathetic? Don’t go trying to match the fae with drink after drink.  We cheat, you know. Especially with tequila.”    
  
With a final flash of light, the faerie disappeared.   
  
Derek stared down at Stiles. Stiles licked his lips, staring back.   
  
“So... was any of that weird for you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gold star to whoever can tell me where "Tim" came from..... :)


	6. HERE AT THE END OF ALL THINGS

*********

**HERE AT THE END OF ALL THINGS  
**

**(Chapter 6)**

*********

  
  
Derek snorted, shaking his head. Stiles felt Derek’s other hand as he tilted his chin up so that Derek could meet Stiles’ gaze with his own. “You thought I slept with Lydia?”   
  
“Um.”   
  
“A few months ago, we were caught out by some rogue Hunters. She was hurt. One of my Uncle’s legacies was that he left Lydia as sort of a..  well. She was pretty cut up, and I shared my healing with her. It wasn’t sexual.” Derek’s stare was so intense that Stiles thought for a moment that Derek was doing something particularly wolfy. After a few seconds, he understood.  
  
Stiles nodded. Puppy piles. He’d seen that with Scott and Isaac. Wolves could share healing abilities with touching. Especially if their Alpha was involved. Now that Derek mentioned it, Stiles remembered. He’d been all geared up to miss classes to come up to Beacon HIlls so that he could be with Lydia in the hospital, when Alison had texted him that Lydia had been healed.  At the time, he’d been thrilled.  
  
Now? Now... well. He just felt stupid. He felt himself blush  Derek’s hand left his chin, skating softly down Stiles’ neck to his shoulder, the touch unsure as though he wasn’t fully certain that he was allowed. Stiles shivered. “He. Tim. He said....”   
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“ _Yeah._ Jesus, Stiles how did you not know?”  
  
“Er... I’m.... an idiot?”   
  
Derek snorted again. He shifted slightly, the hand on Stiles’ back sliding around to cup his hip. “You’re not an idiot. You just sometimes don’t see what’s standing right in front of you.”  
  
“Ha! Pot! Kettle!”  
  
Derek cocked his head with a little smirk. “Oh, I see. I _definitely_ se-- _mmmmphhh_!”  
  
Since appearing naked, Stiles had been standing pretty close to Derek. He hadn’t missed the way Derek had kept his nakedness shielded with his body, but even so when Stiles took that last step forward so that he could kiss Derek, it shocked him to feel the rough scrape of Derek’s jeans against his thighs.   
  
It had taken Stiles quite a while to learn how to kiss someone. At the time, he’d been horribly embarrassed when the girl from his art history class had stopped them mid-kiss and shaken her head sadly, looking mildly traumatised. They’d then proceeded to make out with her directing, and offering very pointed feedback on exactly what it was that Stiles was doing wrong. When they’d pulled away from each other, lips swollen and wet (and in Stiles case, breathing a little too heavily) she’d just grinned and left with the off-handed comment that the next person that Stiles got around to kissing would thank her.   
  
Derek actually _melted_ against him when Stiles flicked his tongue into Derek’s mouth, taking over the kiss until his head was swimming.  He felt Derek’s hands on his hips as he jerked Stiles closer, and Stiles didn’t even have a second to feel embarrassed that his stupid dick was very interested in the proceedings before Derek lost whatever compunction that had kept his hands above Stiles’ waist, and was cupping his ass to press their bodies flush against each other.  
  
Stiles broke the kiss with a confused tilt of his eyebrows.  He’d felt something that his lust-soaked brain only just now registered as wrong. “Um. Derek?”  
  
Derek rolled his hips again, not noticing that Stiles had been shocked into inactivity. His lips sucked a mark into the hollow below Stiles’ ear, and for a second he was distracted as much by that as by the way the tips of Derek’s fingers slid back and forth over the very tops of his thigh, under the warm curve of his ass.  
  
Stiles rocked tentatively into Derek’s body.  Yep. That certainly wasn’t right.  Stiles moved their bodies away just slightly and slid his hand over Derek’s chest, slowly touching his skin. Derek groaned and rested his head against Stiles’ shoulder, sucking in breath, as though he wasn’t sure if he had the capability to breathe. They were both painfully conscious of the path of Stiles’ hand as it dipped down over Derek’s abs, over the button, and down to tease lightly over the bulge of his dick, trapped in his jeans. Okay. That was right. More than right. Jesus fucking Christ that was right.  Stiles felt his own cock twitch in sympathy.  Stiles took a deep breath and moved his hand slightly to the left.   
  
He jumped when Derek’s fingers closed around his wrist, jerking his gaze up to Derek’s, astounded to find that Derek looked like he was about to burst out laughing.  “You might not like what you find there.”   
  
Stiles wrinkled his eyebrows, confused. He paused a minute until he realized that Derek wasn’t stopping him. He could feel Derek’s thumb sliding against his pulse point, over and over as though Derek couldn’t keep himself from touching, but his grip wasn’t to keep Stiles away from exploring. Stiles took a deep breath and touched the ... weird... _thing_ he’d felt while pressed up against Derek’s body, only to immediately almost drop it as his entire body flushed with embarrassment.  
  
“Werewolves don’t have two dicks, Stiles.” Derek paused, his lips twitching. “At least none that I’ve met. Would be a bit hard to convince us to leave the house I think, if we did.”   
  
Stiles just stared down at the small container, feeling his face almost glow with heat. It was cylindrical, and made out of hard plastic.  Stuffed into Derek’s pocked as it was- easy mistake. Or so he told himself. Written on the plastic in purple, loopy, scrolling cursive were the words: USE ME.  
  
“He gave us lube?”  
  
“He gave us lube.”  
  
“For an immortal being, he really seems to be taking an active interest in my love life.”  Stiles leaned back into Derek’s touch, moving his hand back to the left, enjoying it when Derek’s fingers tightened on him in reaction.   
  
“He didn’t give us any condoms.” Derek sounded terribly disappointed, like he’d just been told that he wasn’t allowed to go to Disney World with all of the other children.   
  
Stiles snorted. “Yeah, he’s not that subtle, is he. Tim, I mean.” Stiles looked around the small clearing and smiled, pleased to see that the outcropping of rock that he’d tripped against last night was still there. Stiles twisted his wrist in Derek’s grip, curling their fingers together. He started walking, and Derek followed, like an obedient puppy.   
  
“What?”  
  
Stiles pointed. “You. Werewolf. You can’t get diseases, right? Me. Virgin.” He made a face. “Well, Mostly.” Stiles pushed Derek down onto the rock, then followed him so that he was kneeling over Derek’s thighs. He grabbed at the hem of Derek’s shirt and pulled it up over his head, tossing it off behind them.   
  
“Muh. Mostly?” Derek sat there, trying to look like he wasn’t completely into the idea of Stiles taking charge. Stiles would have totally believed it too, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d had his tongue down Derek’s throat about three minutes ago.   
  
“Yep. Mostly. And no, I’m not averse to losing said virginal status in the middle of this nifty clearing.  I mean, it’s even climate-controlled. We have the two of us, we’re all alone, we have lube...” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows and Derek snorted a laugh, leaning back on the outcropping of rock and lifting his hips so that Stiles could get his jeans off of him.   
  
Stiles licked his lips when his knuckles bumped against Derek as he carefully started to work down the zipper.   
  
“I’m pretty sure this is the part where I’m supposed to use some cheesy porn line, like ‘oh god your cock it’s so big right now’, or ‘I really, really want to feel this inside of me,’ right?”   
  
Derek just kissed him as an answer. “Generally, no. However in this case, if you ever feel the need to talk about my cock, feel---” Stiles wrapped his hand around him. “fr-- _eee_ \--hnnngaahh.”  
  
Derek pushed into Stiles’ closed fist, and Stiles almost lost his balance, resting his ass on Derek’s knees and moving so that both hands were wrapped around the thickness of Derek’s cock.. Stiles let himself slide off of Derek’s legs and only winced a little when his left knee landed on an old piece of bark. He bent over Derek’s cock and let himself look for a minute.  For some reason he’d never thought about the fact that a natural werewolf would probably not be circumcised, and found himself kneeling there, looking at him, Stiles stroked once, very, very lightly, getting used to the heat and thickness of him.   
  
Nervously, Stiles bent forward to lip at the extra skin, feeling more confident when Derek shuddered under him. Stiles moved his fist, watching as the ridged band of skin stretched slightly, allowing the head of Derek’s erection to peek out for just a moment.  Stiles dipped his head and licked at the smooth head, only to have Derek jerk under him, twisting his body so that he could have more contact. One of Derek’s hands cradled the back of Stiles’ head and he grinned, moving his tongue around the edge of Derek’s foreskin. He’d heard that everything was more sensitive this way, and from the way Derek was reacting, it certainly seemed to be true.   
  
Stiles kept licking at the bits he could reach, lipping at the foreskin, licking under it and flicking his tongue over the head of Derek’s cock until he was fully hard, and shakily pulling Stiles up for another kiss.   
  
Stiles pouted a little. He kind of wanted to play with Derek’s thick cock some more, but it was obvious that Derek had had enough. Derek cupped Stiles’ cheeks, kissing him hard enough that Stiles found himself pressing against Derek’s body, desperate for contact.   
  
“You’re.. sure this is where you want to do this? Because if I see your mouth stretched around me again, it’s gonna end really damn quick. _Fuck_ , Stiles. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to...”   
  
Stiles smirked, purposefully licking his lips. Derek jerked him up so that he was straddling Derek’s thighs again. Instead of sitting back with his weight on his palms, Derek had one hand wrapped around Stiles, the other steadying his balance so that Stiles wouldn’t fall over. Stiles gasped, resting his arms on Derek’s shoulders.   
  
Stiles stared down at Derek’s hand as his fist closed over his dick, his hips making these little helpless rocking motions as Derek kept the friction up.  Derek’s grip was much tighter than Stiles used on himself, but his cock had leaked enough precome that it felt fucking amazing. While part of his mind was screaming at him that he was about to come in Derek’s lap, the rest of his brain was still shocked that Derek wanted him like this at all. To his own shame, Stiles felt his whole body tense and start to shake. Derek wouldn’t let him collapse down on top of him though, instead kissing Stiles through his orgasm, greedily sucking down each of the small cries into his own throat.   
  
While Stiles was still reeling Derek flipped their positions, tipping them forward carefully onto the soft ground. Stiles was overly-conscious of the way Derek’s hand was sticky as he kept Stiles from knocking his head against the rock. If he had all of his brain cells, he’d laugh at the way Derek hadn’t managed to kick off his jeans, or the way his whole body felt overly-sensitized, like all of his nerves had just came online at once.    
  
“Holy shit.”  
  
Derek laughed, looming over him and licking at his hand, his eyes dark.   
  
“Holy _shit_!”   
  
“It’s the sweet nothings that you whisper in my ear, Stiles, that keeps our love pure.”   
  
Stiles just stretched, enjoying the way his body felt after coming so hard. From the stretch, it wasn’t much to turn over, knowing that he was pretty much presenting himself to Derek and not really giving a fuck.  He just wanted Derek to feel as good as he did.  Stiles stretched again, wondering if he’d ever feel embarrassed at how needy he was acting, shamelessly hoping that Derek liked the view.   
  
There was a crash from behind him that sounded suspiciously like a werewolf falling over onto the ground and frantically kicking off his jeans.   
  
Between one breath and the next, Stiles felt Derek’s mouth on his spine and shivered, rising up a little so that he could get a little more comfortable.  Derek moved up his body so that he was whispering in Stiles’ ear, pressing their skin together as he spoke.  “I’m doing this all wrong. I should take my time with you, lick at you until you’re open and screaming for me.”   
  
Stiles thought his eyes would bug out.   
  
“But _fuck_ , Stiles. If I don’t get inside of you right now...”   
  
Stiles wiggled under him, nodding hard enough that he scraped his chin against the grass. “That one! We can go slow later.” He pressed his ass against Derek’s body, his skin still feeling overly-sensitized.   
  
In answer, there was the click of the lube, and the wet sound of Derek’s fingers rubbing together. Stiles had done this much to himself before, but nothing had prepared him for the feeling of someone else sliding inside of him for the first time, for the way his muscles stretched and quivered as they tried to relax around the intrusion of Derek’s finger, then fingers. Derek was a lot more patient than his words made him sound, scissoring and stretching until Stiles was rocking back onto Derek’s hand. Three fingers felt like too much, and Stiles almost cried at the way Derek slowed down again, licking and biting at his neck and shoulders until Stiles had relaxed.   
  
“How do you want to do this?”   
  
“Uh. It’s not like I know.”   
  
Stiles felt Derek’s forehead rest briefly on his shoulder, like he’d said something that surprised him. “Jesus. Well. If I’m behind you, it will probably be more comfortable for you, since you’ve never---” Stiles tightened his muscles around Derek’s fingers, just to hear his voice catch. “D--done this. Before. Fuck. _How_ have you never...?” Derek reached over with his other hand and wrapped it around Stiles’ cock again, stroking it in time with his fingers, twisting his hand a little so that his pinkie finger bumped against the stretched rim of Stiles’ hole. They both moaned, freezing for a moment before Derek did it again, deliberately, slowly teasing Stiles as he slid the tip of his wet finger around and around in small circles.   
  
Derek twisted the three fingers inside of him again, and Stiles huffed out his breath at the pressure. It didn’t hurt exactly, but he could definitely feel the stretch. Derek’s middle finger hit something inside of Stiles that had him scrambling on the grass, his fingers digging into the soft earth as he froze, unsure if he wanted to fuck into the tight ring of Derek’s hand, or push back onto the fingers stretching him wide.   
  
Stiles heard a high-pitched whine and only dimly realized that it was his own voice. Derek seemed to understand whatever it was that Stiles was begging for, because it was only a few seconds before Derek slowly pushed between Stiles’ shoulderblades, tugging his hips up into place.   
  
“You ready?” Derek’s voice was absolutely wrecked. Stiles didn’t even think he’d heard it that low, even after Peter had pushed his fist through Derek’s chest.   
  
“Yeah. Yes. Uh-huh.” Stiles nodded frantically for good measure and felt Derek’s sweaty body as he positioned himself behind Stiles. There was the wet squelch of lube, a bump of the head of Derek’s cock as it nudged Stiles’ balls, and the head was slowly opening him up. Muscles that he’d thought were stretched open fluttered and tensed as Derek pushed the head of his cock inside of him.  Stiles couldn’t help it; he froze.  
  
He heard Derek’s grunt behind him and winced. What had been weird and amazing and hot was now just too much. Stiles felt Derek’s hand move from his dick to his hip, squeezing softly.  “Shhh,” Derek soothed, his own voice sounding like he could break it off any second. “I’m not going to move. Give it a second.”   
  
Stiles bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. Derek shifted behind him and Stiles felt his fingers again, soaked with lube teasing at his hole. That felt amazing and once Stiles’ nerve endings realized that it felt good again and told his brain, Stiles found himself moaning low in the back of his throat.    
  
“Good?” One of Derek’s wet fingers bumped over Stiles’ prostate again, and he felt his dick twitch, a large drop of precome beading up at the end.   
  
“Ye--ahhh. Oh yeah, that’s. Unnnghn. I like your fingers inside of me.”  
  
Derek’s throat clicked as he swallowed, hard.. “I’m going to try again, okay? And this time, I want you to bear down. Let me in, Stiles, okay?”  
  
Stiles moaned, his muscles tensing at Derek’s words. But to his surprise, Derek didn’t continue. He stopped completely, instead, and just waited patiently even with this.   
  
“Stiles?”  
  
“Oh!” Belatedly, Stiles realized that Derek was asking him a question. “Wait a second...wait.” Derek absolutely froze behind him, before almost jerking away. Stiles knew that there was nothing graceful in the way he turned, lunging for Derek so that he could kiss him, climbing up on top of him like a tree. Derek kneeled on the grass, pulling Stiles into the curve of his body. Stiles moved up onto his knees, locking his arms around Derek’s sweaty shoulders. Stiles bent his neck to lick at him, tasting salt and the heat of his skin.  “Okay, go. I want it like this.”   
  
Derek held his gaze for a long moment. Stiles forced a grin and softly kissed Derek’s lips. “Is _this_ the part where I tell you that I want to feel that big, thick cock inside of me?”   
  
Derek’s eyelids fluttered shut. “Jesus. I knew your mouth was going to be the death of me.” He helped Stiles to lean forward, holding himself into place so that Stiles could do the work, taking as much or as little as he wanted.   
  
This time- everything went much more smoothly. It hurt- holy _fuck_ did it hurt- but only for a second until Stiles’ body realized just what it wanted. It was incredible. Stiles rocked down in tiny increments, feeling the muscles of his ass grasp and release the shaft of Derek’s cock until he was settled completely, Derek buried deep inside of him.   
  
Stiles was able to watch the way the small muscle ticked in Derek’s jaw as he forced himself not to move, could see the way the sweat pooled in the hollow of his throat and stretched up a little to lick at it.  The slide of Derek inside of him made Stiles gasp and settle back on his knees.   
  
From there, he couldn’t have said who moved first.  
  
Derek’s hands almost hurt as his fingers tightened around Stiles’ hips, helping Stiles figure out what felt good, and what made his eyes roll back in his head.  The pressure of Derek’s cock stretching him open sent little shivers up and down Stiles’ spine. Each time he thrust back down, the head bumped over the small press of nerves inside of him, causing Stiles’ cries to echo in the almost-silent woods.   
  
Once Stiles got his rhythm, Derek let go of him.  Stiles watched as Derek’s gaze jumped from Stiles’ face, to his cock as it bobbed, dragging wetly against Derek’s stomach as he rolled his hips, shifting and twisting down onto Derek’s cock.   
  
“Put your...” Stiles broke off to press his mouth against Derek’s, stealing his breath. It was much too intense to even be called a kiss, even though their lips and mouths touched. “ _Derek._ I want.” He broke off with another gasp when Derek arched under him, meeting him thrust for filthy, greedy thrust.   
  
Stiles felt Derek start to come before he could see it. When Derek cried out, his voice bottoming out into a growl that sent birds in the trees flying off in all directions, Stiles just grabbed Derek’s cheeks, forcefully turning his head so that Stiles could watch his face.   
  
Derek sucked in a deep breath, his eyes focusing onto Stiles with an almost physical  jolt. Derek didn’t even blink before Stiles found himself on his back, his mouth wrapped around Stiles’ cock. Stiles spread his legs open so wide that his muscles trembled, pushing his dick into the wet heat of Derek’s throat, a strangled sound ripping from his throat. He didn’t even know how to process the heat of Derek’s mouth. Everything was too much, and too perfect.  He was so tense that he couldn’t quite make it over that last edge.   
  
When Stiles realized that Derek’s fingers were pushing the come that had trickled out back up into him, Derek’s mouth wandering down from his cock over his hole to dip just barely inside, he felt himself start to fall apart. Stiles tried to yell, but could only whisper Derek’s name over and over as he felt Derek move back up to swallow him down, sucking so hard that Stiles was pretty sure his brain whited out for a few seconds.   
  
Stiles felt a chaste kiss on his abdomen, then another on his chin before Derek scooped him up and leaned against the rock cropping, Stiles lying so that their legs were tangled together.   
  
It was even longer before Stiles could think straight. He was horribly afraid that his mouth was stretched into a smile that was so goofy looking he’d have to change his name if anyone saw it on his face.   
  
“Okay?”  
  
Stiles nodded. He wondered how long you had to be with someone before it was socially acceptable to pass out in a sex coma.  He felt Derek’s grin against the top of his head. The moment was almost perfect, if one could ignore the feeling of drying sweat and come all over themselves.. and Stiles was surprised to realize that he could.

**_I  like big BUTTS and I cannot lie! You other brothers can’t deny...._ **

  
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”  Stiles winced at Derek’s incredulous words, mentally waving goodbye to his warm and fuzzy afterglow.  
  
Stiles jumped up, flinched and sank back to the ground, pointing kind of feebly towards the sound of his phone.  He probably should have expected it when Tim appeared out of nowhere, Stiles’ phone held to his tiny ear. The phone was about half the size of his body. Stiles tilted his head to stare at Tim. He might have glared a little.   
  
“Yeah? Yeah. I’m no expert on your mortals and your crazy little thing called love, but if I were a fly on the wall I would say that they have definitely done the deed.” Tim wrinkled his nose and two small, wet towels appeared in front of where the two of them lay together. Derek snatched them out of the air with a disgusted sound, bending to clean up Stiles before cleaning off the more pressing areas of his own body.    
  
There was a bright flash of the purple light (honestly, by now Stiles didn’t even blink) and Stiles found himself dressed and standing outside of the circle, in the exact same spot that he’d began. He blinked at Derek as he hopped in place, pulling up and fastening his jeans.   
  
“Uh huh. Yep. Well, Red, you have two choices. Uh huh...” Tim trailed off. There was another poof of light and Derek appeared besides Stiles, linking their fingers together and glaring over Stiles head to the tiny faerie. He started walking back towards his car quickly, almost tugging Stiles as though he was afraid Tim would do something else before he got him safely in the car.   
  
The car door slammed and Stiles heard Derek muttering under his breath as he started the camaro, the familiar purr of the engine making Stiles almost forget to notice how uncomfortable he was.  Leather seats were all well and good until you had to actually _sit_ on them. Then they were uncomfortable as hell.   
  
It was either an amazing trick of physics or complete and utter magic that allowed both Derek and Stiles to hear Tim’s voice inside the car, even though the tiny fae was several feet away.  
  
“Look. I’ll make this simple. Yes, of course I got it on film... but it’s gonna cost you another favor.”   
  
Derek’s foot stomped on the brake pedal. Stiles jerked in his seat belt, then blinked, going over what he just heard in his head. He turned to look at Derek. Stiles could still see where he’d bit a little too hard. There was a lone blade of grass sticking to Derek’s collarbone. Derek bit his lip, trying unsuccessfully to keep them from twitching in a laugh.   
  
“I think this is the part where we drive off into the sunset.”   
  
“But! He said... Lydia!”   
  
“Stiles.”  
  
“It’s not that I don’t mind being on film, because hello I’d watch you read a phone book, not even gonna lie there, but I don’t know that I looked all that spectacularly terrific on camera, what with the grunting and the pathetic--”  
  
“ _Stiles._ ”   
  
Derek reached over to pull Stiles closer, kissing his lips twice before pulling away.  “Why did you decide to come to town?”   
  
Stiles blinked. “Because I realized that I’m completely in love with you right in the middle of my marketing exam. I just wanted... to be here. To tell you.”   
  
“And why didn’t you... tell me?”   
  
Stiles wanted to look away, but felt that after everything, he owed Derek an answer to the question he’d asked several times already.  “Because I never dreamed that you would ever be much more than my friend. It wasn’t like you were going to wake up one day and realize that you couldn’t live without me.”  
  
Derek nodded. Stiles felt the briefest stirrings of panic before he realized that Derek had continued speaking. “--right. I didn’t just wake up and realize it. It was more when I saw you driving away with all your crap crammed into that piece of shit jeep of yours... that I realized that I didn’t quite know how to let you go.”  
  
Stiles blinked. He blinked again. The goofy grin from earlier made a reappearance. it sort of felt like it wouldn’t be leaving his lips any time in the near future, and damn whoever saw it.  
  
  
....  
  
The End!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand. There you have it. Thanks for reading! <3.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a response to a very specific prompt. Instead of amtdi, she wanted a backwards kind of situation: Stiles is hit by some kind of magical whammy, that forces people he comes in contact with to want to jump him. Stiles is confused why Derek is **NOT** one of those people... until they realize that the magical whammy doesn’t work when you’re already in love. :D The prompt was not intended to fiddle around with any consent issues in any way.
> 
> As always, thanks for commenting and the concrit, either here or [tumblr](http://1lostone.tumblr.com/)!


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